


Tinker-tot

by Questions3



Series: Nightshade [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Actual Thief Bilbo, Female Bilbo, Gen, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bifur and Bofur find a surprise in their flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinker-tot

**Author's Note:**

> No Nori but a deeper look into my sad head-cannon

            “… then ya let the wee tail loose and,” the dwarfling’s eyes went wide as saucers as the tiny wind up bunny started bouncing around on the table. Her little squeal of joy was one of the few things Bofur and his family had left to them these days. Not much market in a broken city of a displaced people. Their King was doing wonders in keeping them housed and fed in the space he’d bartered from the Broadbeams and Firebeards living in the Blue Mountains, but it wasn’t near what Erebor had been and not near enough to bring the kind of prosperity needed for a tiny toyshop to maintain a worthy living. It didn’t help that Bofur and Bifur weren’t the best at denying their tiny customers anything. Bombur was the only one of the three with any shrewdness for business, but he had gotten a full position in the Ered Luin kitchens as a dishwasher and assistant. Their youngest kin spent the day drenched in dishwater and peeling potatoes, but he was allowed to bring leftovers home, and that kept the Ur family fed. When they could find the work, Bifur and Bofur would swing their picks in any of the mines running through the mountain, but with so many dwarrow jobless it wasn’t the most steady work. No their failing toyshop was the only constant work that either lad could hope for.

            “Wow! MisterBofurthat’ssoamazing! You’rethesmartestdwarfinthemountain! Howdidthatwork?! Canyoumakeapuppy? WhereisMisterBifur? Hemademybrotheradragonanditwasn’tnearaspressiousasthisbunnybutIreallywantedtoseehisaxewound! Andthankhimforthedragon! Côroletmetryitandtoldmeaboutyouandyourgreattinkertoys!!!” the wee Firebeard’s braided red hair and her downy peach fuzz was jumping up and down as the bunny finished its last rotation. Her big brown eyes shining and smiling through the layer of grime that stuck to almost all the children in these lower levels. They were the children of miners and when their parents were both off trying to make ends meat they ran wild about these parts. Some would even be seen in the mines working for scraps as messengers and runners. It wasn’t the safest occupation for grown dwarrow, never mind the young’uns, but it was even less safe to starve. He’d seen this little one running through the coal mines before, even sent her off on a few message runs himself when he’d deemed them safe enough. He also remembered her older brother, no more than ten years her senior, who’d had his leg near sawn off not three months ago in a rockslide.

            With his biggest grin the toymaker grabbed up the wee rabbit and reached behind the counter for a puppy of the same make, this one would flip when its tail was wound tight. Best for the lass to find that out as a surprise, “Well I just so happen to have just the thing for a lass which be wantin’ a pup. Why don’ ya take the pair off to your brother then? Tell me what he thinks, you lot can be our official toy testers, what say ye? And of course, anythin’ ya test for me and Bifur ye gets ta keep.” It did his heavy heart good to see the gap toothed grin widen even more, fit to split the tiny face, and the glow shine through the grime of a too thin face. He’d just finished saying goodbye to the wee thing, watching as she ran off to her brother’s sickbed in the healer’s halls three caverns down from their own, when Bifur came out of the back room and nodded to him in his gruff way.

            _You know those pieces of iron in the gear work aren’t as cheap as we’d like, cousin_.

            Bofur nodded at the hand gestures as he turned the sign on the front to Closed. “I know it lad, but they’re hardly doin’ anyone any good gatherin’ dust behind the counter now are they?”

            The snort was his only answer as his old cousin grabbed up a box of some odd bits and pieces they’d salvaged from a trash run they’d made earlier that day and began to take it up to the flat above the shop front the three called home. Every so often they’d make their way to the wealthier bits of town and see what the well off would be throwin’ away. It wasn’t much but they’d find odds and ends that made some of their more interestin’ products. It was a right hoot when one of those pot bellied bastards would make their way down to this unsavory bit o’ space and actually buy something the pair’d lifted from their own trash. It was rare but a treat nonetheless, and normally rather lucrative.

            He was about to grab up the second trove when the tiny bell on the door alerted him to a customer, he’d forgotten to lock the front when Bifur’d popped out from the back. “Sorry ta say it but we’re closed for the night, mayhap tomorrow we’ll have somethin’ special for the patient yeah?” Turning to face the child he’d assumed had snuck in the hatted miner was surprised to find a guardsman standing in the doorway looking rather put upon. The Mohawked avenger of the peace was glaring around the shop as though he expected to find something he’d misplaced and was desperate to recapture. When it didn’t appear he turned back to Bofur and grumbled, “I’m no’ here for a toy, but a thief. Has anyone been here besides meself? She’d be a wee thing in black with a mess of blades about her person and a hood.”

            At that Bofur rose his brow, surprised to say the least but not willin’ to put off any of the guard. Life was hard enough without making enemies of the enforcement needlessly. “Well now can’ reckon anyone like tha’s been about here today. You’re the first dwarf taller ‘en me knee that’s been by today as it were.”

            The dwarrow rubbed his armored knuckles with his open palms as he looked about again, seeing where this was going Bofur sighed, “Ye’re more’n welcome to look fur yerself then. Jus’ don’ disturb the wears too much lad.” With that he hefted the box and made to find Bifur upstairs as the larger dwarrow nodded his thanks and began to stalk the small shop and move towards the backroom workshop. As he entered their tiny flat’s front room above he bit back a surprised cry when he found Bifur helping a wee thing like the guard described up from the floor. Blood was seeping through pale fingers that clutched at a wound in the left ribs or there abouts. The hood hid her face from him but he recognized youth when he saw it, and this lass wasn’ quite a bairn but not full grown yet. Definitely not deservin’ of what was done to her here or whatever else was in store for her. His face was harsh as he raised a silencing finger to his own lips and turned to see his concerned cousin watching him carefully. _Move her to the storage room and stay there till I come back. We’ll sort her out once I’ve gotten rid of the one downstairs._ Bifur grunted his understanding and picked the wee thing up.

            Bofur put the box down and had just washed up the blood splatter from the opened gap in the stone that acted as a window when he heard the clunk of the guard’s footsteps on the steps. Turning round he smiled his disarming grin and asked the Mohawked guard, “Find anythin’ below?”

            His response was a grunt as the dwarf looked around the tiny room. It was sparsely furnished, acting as a bedroom for himself and Bombur more than the front room it was supposed to be. But where the twin pallets occupied the wall on the far end from the stairs there was also the table the three would eat at when Bombur came back, three crates acted as stools for the thrifty tinkerers. The storage room Bifur had taken the lass was just through the curtained archway and down a wee corridor. It was used for their clothes, odds and ends, and any non-perishables they managed to keep about the house. It was little more than a closet but there was plenty of room for the built in shelves and the pallet Bifur slept on.

            When the guard’s eye lingered on the curtain Bofur called out, “Bifur, come out here, meet our guest. ‘Haps ya know my old cousin here. Hero of Azanulbizar, our Bifur. Didn’t come back quite as whole as ‘e went in but then, not many had tha’ luxury.”

            The old soldier came through the curtain and looked from his small cousin to their guest, blocking the room behind him with his girth. Seeing the Mohawk, however, Bifur made a swift salute and grumbled a hail in Khuzdul. Apparently the two knew each other from the battle, what luck. Bofur was smiling for real now as he watched the guard’s suspicion dim a bit and resignation take its place as he decided a warrior of Bifur’s quality wouldn’t be involved in aiding a fugitive. “Thank ye for yer cooperation lads. Iff’n ya happen ta see anythin’ suspicious let the nearest guard know and I’ll be back.” With a final respectful nod to his old shield brother the dwarrow was gone. The bell jingled as he exited the shop. Bifur was down the stairs locking the door in an instant and Bofur went into the back to find the lass sleeping easy as you please on his cousin’s bed. He was about to lift the obstructing hood when the old warrior was back and stilled his hand. _If she wanted people knowing her face she wouldn’t have the hood in the first place_.

            With a sigh Bofur nodded, “You’d be righ’ about that cousin. Alright, lets see to gettin’ the wee one wrapped up an’ then somethin’ like food in ‘er should she wake.” She didn’t, wake that is. Not until Bombur had already come home and the three had moved to the front room to get some sleep of their own, Bifur sleeping sitting against the wall by the archway that led into his room. But when the lot woke the next mornin’ all they found of the wee creature was a flowing purse of coin that would keep them well in hand for a fortnight if stretched right and a small missive in a flowing hand:

           

            _**Thank you for caring for my dear one so well, Master Dwarrow, in my absence. It is a kindness we won’t soon forget.**_

_**-Nightshade** _

 

            They wouldn’t see their little thief again for a year when they found themselves in a bit of a spot involving Bifur and some lout he’d seen fit to throw down a mineshaft. They would finally be introduced to the grateful mother and the small pair of thieves would help put the offended dwarf and his group of thugs in their proper place. But in the meantime there was a small ‘donation’ to their little household placed on their ‘windowsill’ every month or so.


End file.
